Role Model
by Renesmee Girl
Summary: Renesmee is an up and coming supermodel in New York. Can she overcome the trials of being a model, as well as being in love? All human, please review!
1. Closer

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight, Lean Cuisine, or Gilmore Girls.

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**1. Closer**

I still wasn't used to it.

The posters, the billboards, the huge blow-up pictures on the sides of buses.

Everywhere I looked I saw… me.

There I was on the cover of some magazine, striking an innocent, awkward, flirtatious pose. That's what they were trying to sell me as—the naïve, loveable girl that just happens to be the newest "it" model. It's not like I'm ungrateful. I'm just still in shock. It has yet to sink in.

I remember how it started. It seemed like it was years ago, when in fact it was merely weeks, if even that long. I was walking down the street on the way home from BMCC, Borough of Manhattan Community College, when I saw the sign outside of the sleek, modern building.

"Models wanted," it read in big, artsy letters. Next to the sign was a big, shaded window that cast my shadowy, flattering figure. I grinned widely, and stepped into the big, warm lobby.

Forty-five minutes later, I had booked five photo-shoots and two runways. Every time I thought of the dumbstruck looks on that agency's face, I smiled to myself. I'm not conceited. You have to admit though; admiration makes the heart do strange things.

I was so booked up now with my schedule that I could only manage to squeeze in a few classes of the community college a week. I wasn't planning on giving up my education for a modeling career that would last a few years at the latest. It was only a matter of time until a newer, younger, fresher face popped up to takeover in my footsteps.

The strangest thing about this whole deal was the way Bella, my mom, had reacted. At first I thought that she would've been upset with me, or maybe even confused and worried. But no, she was perfectly fine. She treated it like it only a job, which is really all it was. She had only given me one piece of advice.

"Whatever you do," she had told me, "don't lose your head. Don't get caught up in a whirl of designer gowns and sexy, young male models. And don't forget what's important, Renesmee. Never forget."

Those had been her exact words, and for some reason, they had made permanent residence in my head. I think it was those words that kept me grounded, that kept me from diving head first into the bright, exquisite world of high-end fashion and modeling like the other star-struck girls.

I smiled to myself as I thought of that, me being different. I liked being different, and I liked being the center of attention and feeling beautiful. But I didn't let it go too far; at least I hoped I didn't.

I was walking swiftly down the street, the chilly wind whipping through my reddish-brown curls. It was hard to walk swiftly in the streets of New York, but I always managed to find a way. In the past few weeks it had become increasingly easier, now that the crowds almost seemed to part before me. I guess I was beginning to become recognized.

I was in the home stretch, my building was only a few yards away, when I saw the bus zoom by. My breath hitched in my throat. I hadn't seen this picture before.

I was standing, my body tilted to the left with my ankles crossed, my arms floating out gracefully from my sides, and my head cocked to the side, my big brown eyes wide with a mixed look of innocence and curiosity. My hair was down, flowing all the way to my waist in a mess of bronze waves. I looked so strange in this picture. It was awkward, weird, yet still somehow striking. The most beautiful, unusual picture I had yet to see of myself.

"Huh," I grunted to myself. A couple people walking by were staring at the picture, murmuring their opinions of it to each other. I couldn't catch their words over the sound of the traffic and the steady hum of people's voices all around.

I shook my head to clear it, then ducked inside my apartment building. I took the long flight of stairs up to my floor, feeling too jittery to stand around in an elevator. It took awhile, but I finally made it to the door of the loft. I jammed the key in the lock, and opened the door.

The spacey, brick loft that I called home instantly comforted me. My shoes tapped softly on the dark wood floors as I moved to the kitchen, where I immediately saw Bella.

"Hey!" She called out, catching sight of me. "How was your day?"

"Busy," I told her with a yawn.

She laughed. "Typical. Hungry?"

"Yeah." I _was_ hungry. All it seemed like I was allowed to eat in the presence of my employers and other models were green vegetables and health food bars that tasting like granola and cardboard.

"I thought so. Check the freezer, I just bought a 100-dollar supply of Lean Cuisine today," she told me, standing up from her seat on the barstool.

"Yum," I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

She rolled her eyes at my remark. "Hey, it's either that or a burnt grill-cheese. Take your pick."

"You make it sound like such a tough decision," I said wryly. Bella waved her hand dismissively, and stalked off to watch TV.

I sighed as I picked at my Chicken Florentine, waiting for it to cool. I heard Bella humming along to what sounded like the theme song to Gilmore Girls. In a way, Bella and I's relationship was similar to that of Rory's and Lorelai's. Bella was only fifteen years older than me, a result of what she called, "A stupid, pointless losing of the V-card at my first homecoming." We were more like sisters, really close sisters. We had moved out of Renee's house to New York when I was 10, after she had finished up college in Phoenix. Renee had preferred for me to call her Mama; she had told me that Grandma was a little old since she still considered herself middle-aged. I just call my mom Bella. That's what she wants me to call her, but sometimes I cought myself calling her Mom by mistake.

I finished my dinner a few minutes later, and joined Bella watching TV. Half-way through the show, my cell-phone started to go off in the other room where I had set my bag down. I ran to answer it, and was greeted by the sound of a cool female voice that I recognized as belonging to my agent, Aileen.

"Renesmee Swan?"

"This is she," I replied, breathless.

"Hi, this is Aileen." Her voice sounded vaguely foreign, her English was laced with a strange, Irish accent. "We just got a call from a client that needs you for a photo-shoot tomorrow. I know it's last minute, but they're a big name, and they need a model."

"Um… I'm fine with it Aileen, but is there room in my schedule? I thought we were going to do some scouting tomorrow?" I asked. Thank God for Aileen. I would've probably missed thousands of opportunities without her.

She laughed. "Renesmee, trust me. This photo-shoot will kick butt. Way more important than go-sees." Suddenly, there was a loud crash in the background. "Oh crap. Hey, I gotta go. Some model just fainted, and crashed right into the rack of Charlene De La Cruz coats we just got in for the portfolios. Swing by tomorrow at seven a.m., I'll be waiting."

"Bye!" I said into the dial tone.

--

As soon as I woke up the next morning, my stomach clenched into a huge knot. It took two pieces of toast and a glass of juice for it to finally dawn on me. Today was my biggest photo shoot to date, according to Aileen. Then I glanced at my watch. 6:39. I gasped then flew out the door, still in the sweats I had slept in.

When I reached the agency, nobody seemed to take note of my haggard appearance. That was, until Aileen caught sight of me.

"Renesmee?" she inquired. "What… happened to you?"

I grinned sheepishly at the beautiful Asian girl before me. I always thought that it was weird that she looked Asian, but spoke with an Irish accent. Aileen was pretty enough to be a model herself.

"Fine, don't answer. Anyway, we got to fly. The shoot starts in an hour, and you have to get there for your hair and make-up," she told me, the words flying out of her mouth as she ushered me back out the door and into the frigid New York City air.

We got into the town car that was waiting just outside the street, and I sank into the leather seat with a sigh. "Aileen, what kind of shoot is this?" I asked her once she was positioned behind the wheel.

"It's for Marjani Mutuku, a very up and coming designer. She specializes in two things—evening gowns and…" she trailed off, obviously wishing I hadn't asked the question at all. She grimaced. "Lingerie."

My mouth opened with a pop. I glared at her. "What part of 'no nude ads' do you not understand? I will not prance around wearing only two scrappy pieces of black lace, leaving hardly anything to the imagination!" I cried. "Turn the damn car around!"

She glared at me. "It's tasteful lingerie. Trust me, this lady is trying to bring the classy, respectable woman back in style. You should meet her, she more uptight than my mother-in-law, which is saying something."

"You're married?" I asked her.

She laughed at me, all seriousness gone. "Yes, I am. And my husband's family is most conservative group of people I've met in a long time."

I smiled. "And how've they been treating you?" I'd always thought of Aileen as the rebel type.

"They're adapting," she said with an evil smirk.

I laughed along with her. I was beginning to consider Aileen as one of my good friends. It seemed that we had so much in common, even thought she was about ten years older than me.

We pulled up in front of a row of smaller, expensive looking buildings. I followed Aileen into the one with the big columns out front, and we entered through the dark, wood-paneled door.

The marble-floored lobby was tiny, and nearly deserted. The only sign of life came from the potted plants and the perky, eager man seated behind a huge desk.

"Welcome to Marjani Fashion and Design. May I help you two ladies?" he greeted us, his high-pitched voice already on my nerves.

"We're here for the shoot. Renesmee Swan from—" Aileen began.

"Oh yes! Delighted to have you here! Third floor," he interrupted. Aileen nodded gratefully, and we made our way to the elevator.

We stood in silence during the short ride up, and when the doors open we were greeted with a blast of tuneless contemporary music. I cringed away, but Aileen grasped me by the arm and led me into the center of all the commotion. The next half hour I was silent and obedient, the way the Aileen had instructed me to be. I did whatever I was told without complaint, my only job to dodge the set producers and their equipment as they flew by.

I was all set to go, clad in an extravagant deep plum gown covered with golden lace and bows. My hair was a mess of curls, tangled in an up-do that I hoped was supposed to look like it was falling down. I was wearing what felt like a heavy mask of foundation and fake eyelashes that went so far out I was having trouble seeing. I didn't quite understand how this was supposed to make me look attractive, but whenever I walked by the set directors and the help, they muttered things like "beautiful" and "gorgeous." I guess I'd have to take their word for it.

I was ushered on set, where I came face to face with one of the most beautiful men I had seen. His skin was warm chocolate brown, and his eyes were a soft amber color. His hair was raven black and shiny, and his smile was dazzling. My breath came in short, wracking gasps.

He held out his hand. "I'm Nahuel," he said, his voice smooth and creamy.

"Renesmee," I breathed back, struggling to find words, much less oxygen.

He grinned at me. "Pleasure working with you."

I nodded fervently, my hair bouncing crazily. I felt the bobby pins beginning to pop out from their hold of thick, bronze hair. All at once a huge section of curls fell onto my shoulder, and I blushed.

The photographer and the shoot director were shouted instructions and words of praise at me, and I realized they had already begun to take photographs. The set around us was obviously supposed to look like a fancy, plush apartment. I had no idea what to do.

Nahuel seemed to read my expression. "We're a couple," he murmured. "Getting back from a fancy party. We are happy to be alone… together."

I nodded, and another piece hair fell lose. I frowned.

"Don't worry hon! You're supposed to look a little disheveled… maybe even tipsy!" the director yelled at me.

I knew better than to nod this time. _Disheveled_, I thought. _I can do that_. I let the strap of my gown slide down my arm, exposing what I hoped was a modest portion of my chest. I looked up sweetly into the eyes of Nahuel, a sexy smirk dancing across my features.

"Perfect!" the director yelled, her voice seeming to silence a lot of the commotion going on around the set. It felt like everyone had their eyes on me. Suddenly, the music switched from bouncy contemporary to soft, sultry jazz. The lights dimmed, casting a seductive glow throughout the room.

"Closer! Get closer! You're in love, remember!" the photographer whispered-yelled at us. I moved so that by body was pressed up against Nahuel's dark, muscled one. I placed my palms on his chest, and gazed at him through my eyelashes, my lips pouted. Nahuel wrapped his arms around me, pulling me even closer to him. He tilted his head down, and I realized our lips were only inches apart.

"Dammit!" the director growled. "Act like you're about to make love! Like this is the last day of your lives with each other!" I blushed deeply, stiffening in Nahuel's arms.

"It's okay," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down my back. "We're professionals."

I smiled, my confidence slowly coming back. Hell, I was in the arms of a sexy man. I should be taking advantage of this!

"Nahuel?" I whispered back. "Remember that, okay?"

He smiled. "Of course. I promise I'll back off if you need me to. Just tell me if I ever make you feel uncomfortable."

He already seemed to grasp my plan. "I will."

"Intimacy!" the director shrieked, her voice cutting through the music like a knife. "More passion!"

"If it makes you shut up," I mumbled. Nahuel barely had time to smile before I touched my lips to his. A whoop of joy came from the director, and the photographer murmured a string of praise to us.

Nahuel's hands rubbed along my shoulder, pushing my straps down even farther. I brought my hands up to his neck, winding them around the back of his head. I wave of fire engulfed me, and I wondered if Nahuel felt it too. I was barely aware of the shoot going on around me, my only concentration on the man who had me in his arms. Our kiss was becoming more heated, yet it was still slow and sultry. I briefly thought back to when Aileen had mentioned the designer as being uptight, and I wondered if she had approved of this shoot. I didn't dwell on it long though, because I was suddenly aware of how good Nahuel's finger felt running up and down my spine. We broke apart for a second, and I realized that we were still in a photo shoot.

"Remember to pose," he breathed, his lips moving against my ear. I did as I was told, and began to pose, remembering that I was trying to sell the gown. Nahuel had his cheek against my face, his heady breath sending bursts of pleasure throughout my body. I was facing away from the camera, so I turned my head to the side for a profile shot, Nahuel's head moving flush against mine. I closed my eyes, struck a pose, and let the feeling of adrenaline over-whelm my conscious.

Too soon the music stopped, and the lights cut back on. I frowned as Nahuel pulled away from me, a wide smile on his face.

"Wow," I breathed.

"I know. That was… amazing," he replied.

I didn't have quite the courage to tell him that that was probably the best kiss I'd ever had. I didn't have the chance either, because once more I was whirled away, back to the dressing area where I was stripped of my gown and underwear. I blushed violently in the nude, even though I was concealed behind a sheet being held up by a random girl. I threw on the clothes handed to me as quick as I could, only realizing afterwards that what I had so hastily thrown on was in fact a skimpy nightgown with a built-in bra and a lacy, satiny pair of underpants. Aileen had been right, it was tasteful, even beautiful, but I still felt unnaturally exposed.

More make-up was applied to my still-flushed face, and my hair was pulled in a complicated braid tight against my head. I thought it looked weird and unattractive, and I wondered why they had chosen this particular hairstyle. Then I saw my hairstylist approaching me, a long, deep brown wig in his hands.

Oh. At least that explained the ugly hairstyle. "Why am I wearing a wig?" I asked, curiosity breaking through my silent shell.

He smiled. "The model you're shooting with has almost the exact same color hair as you do, and the director said that she wanted you in a wig so that you didn't look like brother and sister," he explained, securing the mass of dark hair on my head. The color of the wig matched my eyes exactly, and I couldn't help but stare at how different—how sexy—I looked…but still tasteful.

Of course.

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**A/N:** Can anyone guess who she is modeling with next? hehehe... i'm so devious, aren't I?  
I haven't decided yet if I'm going to do Bella POV at all... although as of right now i'm thinking that might not be such a good idea. what do you guys think? BTW, in this particular story, it is never revealed who Renesmee's father is, but I can assure that it isn't Edward. also, i just want to point out that i made up all the designer's names, cuz i wasn't in the mood to research a bunch of different designers. if you have any cool names you want to volunteer up for me to use, that would be awesome. i'm always looking for funky, unique names. and for all you Once Upon a Pom Pom fans, don't worry. I plan to update as soon as i can.

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


	2. So Be It

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight. Or Starbucks. Ha. I just realized I'm sick of disclaimers. Oh well.

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**2. So Be It**

I nestled into the coarse, synthetic grass, hating the itchy feeling against my bare skin. I could already tell this shoot wouldn't be as amazing as the last one, but then again I had yet to meet the male model that I would be working with.

And then I saw him.

He was beautiful. His hair was bronze like mine, and his pale, perfectly sculpted chest reminded me of a statue of a Greek god. I thankfully noted that he was wearing a long pair of silky pajama pants, his outfit not nearly as skimpy as mine. He smiled a crooked smile at me, and took his seat in the fake, crunchy grass next to me.

"Edward," he said, his voice velvety smooth.

"Renesmee," I replied, trying to match his relaxed demeanor.

He smiled at me again, and before he could say something else, the director started screaming at us. I was beginning to loathe that woman.

"Edward, scoot back closer! And wrap your arms around him—yeah, just like that."

He was sitting in front of me, his legs crossed Indian style. I was behind him, my arms wrapped loosely around his middle. Even though we were half-naked, the shoot was a lot less intense than the last one. I think it had something to do with how I wasn't nearly as attracted to Edward as I was Nahuel. Edward and I were keeping casual conversation the whole shoot, both of us ignoring the fact that we were lacking a suitable amount of clothing.

After the shoot, Edward approached me. "If you want to, maybe we could get coffee later? If your not busy, that is," he asked, and I knew he meant just as friends. But obviously, Nahuel didn't.

"Yes," he agreed, coming up behind me. "What a marvelous idea. I'm sure we can round up a few more of the models for a little outing to the nearest Starbucks."

Edward's eyes narrowed, but his aggravation with Nahuel didn't affect his words at all. "Even better. The more the merrier, as they always say."

So it was settled. I had one more shoot, this time by myself, where I was in a strapless, floor length, pale pink dress. Thankfully, I had a different shoot director this time, one who was much more quieter and pretty much let me do my own thing. Before long, the cameras were being put away, and the models were changing back into the clothes they had come in.

"I heard you have plans after the shoot," Aileen commented, after I was back in my sweats. "Care if I join you?"

I shrugged. "I think most of the people here are going, you might as well come."

Aileen smiles. "Thanks. I could really use some espresso right now." Suddenly, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side, behind a rack of gowns. "By the way, I saw your first shoot, and I think I should warn you that—"

"That I shouldn't get serious with him," I finished for her. "Because relationships with other models never work out."

Aileen smiled. "Actually, I believe relationships with models are pretty fun. I was a model a few years ago, before I got pregnant, and—"

"You have a kid?" I practically yelled.

"Yes. A three-year-old boy, Zeke. Can I finish my story now?" Aileen asked.

"Sorry, go right ahead."

"Anyway, back when I was a model, I had flings all the time with the hot guys in my shoots. Most the time we connected off camera. I always thought the intimacy was fake and awkward on the shoots. Although, it didn't look like you were faking it with that Nazhul kid."

"Nahuel," I corrected her. "And you're right. That was just about the sexiest kiss of my life."

"So, all I'm saying is, if you want to hook-up with a hot model, all you have to do is make sure you're straightforward with him. Let him know that you only want him for the sex," Aileen explained to me.

I blushed. "I can't just say that to a guy. And maybe I want more than just sex with Nahuel. Maybe I want an actual relationship."

Aileen shook her head. "No you don't. Because the next day, you'll see an ad with him in it, sucking face with a random girl. And then it all goes down hill from there. My advice: keep real relationships out of your career. There's nothing like going to work, seeing your ex's face every day."

"Your ex works with our modeling agency?"

"Yeah," Aileen said with a sigh. "It's pure torture."

"I bet."

"Hey Renesmee, you ready? We're getting ready to head out. There's a coffee shop across the street," Edward called from across the room.

"Be right there!" I replied.

Aileen narrowed her eyes. "What's the deal with him?"

I shrugged. "Edward and I are just friends. Besides, he's kind of old. He looks like he's 30."

Aileen tilted her head to the side as she studied Edward from afar. "You're right. He's definitely older." She grinned. "But not too old… I'm sure he's had lots of experience when it comes to—"

I held up my hand. "Ugh, Aileen. Is that all you can think about when you look at a guy?" I asked her as we made our way to the door.

She laughed. "I'm just sharing some of my knowledge with you, Renesmee. No need to be ungrateful."

"I'm being ungrateful," I muttered to her, ducking into the crowded elevator. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't reply. Our conversation wasn't private anymore now that we were smashed into an elevator with ten other people.

I looked up to notice that the warm body I was pressed against actually belonged to Edward. I smiled up at him, and he smiled back. "How did your last shoot go?" he asked politely.

"Not as good as the second," I said with a wink. We both laughed lightly. "What about you?"

"It was pretty awesome." I pretended to look hurt. "But still not nearly as marvelous at ours," he hastily responded.

I nodded, and the elevator came to a stop. The doors open, and everyone poured out of the cramped space, moving as a group toward the small, authentic looking coffee shop across the street.

"If you're just friends, why were you flirting with him just now?" Aileen murmured from right next to me. I jumped, but quickly recovered.

"We were just fooling around. Friends do that, you know," I responded casually.

Aileen frowned. "Nahuel, straight ahead. Have you decided about him yet?"

"Nope. I'm just going to see how things go."

"And if you wind up in his bed tonight?" Aileen asked.

"So be it," I said with a smile.

"So be it," she replied with a laugh.

--

Nahuel was jealous.

It was clearly written on his face that he wished that he was the one sitting next to me, the one making me laugh, not Edward.

He scowled from across the table, and took a bite out of his doughnut. I felt sorry for him. His gaze shifted from Edward to me, and he smiled as he caught my eye. I smiled back, silently assuring him that I hadn't forgotten him.

Laughter erupted across the table as Edward finished his joke next to me. On my other side, Aileen was laughing so hard that she was snorting. I frowned, wishing I hadn't missed out on the joke.

"Edward," I began, getting his attention. "Do you know what time it is?"

He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "One thirty-three… why, do you have somewhere else to be?"

I shook my head. "No, but I think it's about time for me to head out. One more coffee and I think I'll pass out of caffeine intake."

Edward nodded. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay," I said with a smile. We had exchanged phone numbers and emails earlier. "I'll give you a call if I'm ever in need of a companion."

I said goodbye to Aileen, and had just left the café when I felt a hand on my forearm. I turned to find Nahuel, smiling at me. "Care if I walk you home?" he asked.

"Not at all," I replied with grin. We set off down the sidewalk in a leisurely stroll, bumping shoulders as we walked. We talked about random, pointless things the next twenty minutes, until we made it to my building. I paused, wondering if I should invite him inside. It seemed like the polite thing to do, but I still couldn't deny my attraction to him, and the thought of being in the loft alone with him…

"Can I be honest with you?" Nahuel asked, breaking my thoughts, which had suddenly become a little _too _dirty.

"Of course, Nahuel," I replied. I wondered where this was leading.

He took a deep breath. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since our shoot."

My mouth opened slightly, and I was so taken aback that I couldn't find words. Nahuel's gaze was piercing, his eyes never leaving mine. "I—I… wow," I finally managed.

"I'm sorry… was I too forward?" he asked, looking worried.

"I…" I began, finding my voice. "Yes. Yes you were."

"Renesmee, again, I'm sorry."

"No, no. I… I liked it," I said truthfully. "I kind of have a thing for guys who are honest. Guys who don't shy away from their feelings."

Nahuel's smile was blinding. He reached down and intertwined both of his hands in mine. I didn't object. "Well then, if you don't mind me being forward again…" He lowered his face towards mine, and I knew what was coming. I even stood on my tiptoes to close the last inch between us. His lips were even softer than I remembered, and I soon lost myself in their feeling.

When we finally broke apart, I couldn't hide my smile. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For the best two kisses of my life."

Nahuel released his grip on my hands, only to wrap his arms around my waist in a tight embrace. "Care for a third?" he murmured in my ear.

I smiled. "I definitely would."

This time, he kissed me with such force that I staggered backward, my back pressed against the door to my building. My arms curled around his neck, and Nahuel's tongue grazed along my lips, begging for entrance.

I granted it, but I still pulled away sooner than I had liked. "Nahuel… people are staring," I whispered to him. And then boldly, I asked: "We could take it inside, if you'd like."

"That's a brilliant suggestion," he replied, his fingers trailing along the hemline of my sweatshirt. I was surprised by how badly I wanted his hands to duck under the fabric, smoothing his fingers across my flesh.

I shivered, unlocking the door. We quickly made our way to the elevator, and as soon as the door shut behind us, we were at it again, our lips dancing together magically. I barely noticed when the elevator door opened with a _ding_, and the doors had almost shut again before Nahuel found a free hand to reach out and grab them before they closed.

I fumbled with the apartment key for what felt like eternity. Nahuel's hot, fast breathing tickled my neck, providing a distraction that was hard to ignore. Finally, we made it inside, the door closing softly behind us. We were both panting, and I found the sight of it so amusing that I giggled. Nahuel stood in front of me, his body so close to mine, his face so intense, and I lost my amusement, transfixed by the burning desire deep inside of me to jump on top of him and attack him with my lips.

My last legible thought was wondering where Bella kept the condoms, and then everything faded into a mix of fireworks and heady breathing.

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**A/N:** :) I'm so happy I finally finished this. You have no idea. The sad thing was, I knew what I was going to write, even what I wanted to write, but I just couldn't get motivated to sit down and actually type it. But now that it's all done and posted, I hope it was worth the wait. So review... yeah. It's kinda late, and I'm not exactly feeling all that chipper. But trust me. I am happy. I'm just too tired to type happy. Gr. I'm rambling. Sorry.

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


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